


It's the Great Pumpkin, Bucky Barnes

by sachertortes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Demon Darcy Lewis, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Magic, Romance, because demon!darcy, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachertortes/pseuds/sachertortes
Summary: Bucky accidentally summons a demon.Her name is Darcy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to the lovely and magical Queenspuppet for helping me out with this one!

 

 

_“It’s a full moon tonight. That’s when all the weirdos are out.”_

-Dani, _Hocus Pocus_

 

\------

 

It began as it had thousands of times before, for thousands of years.

It began with a book.

 

Well, it also began with Tony hounding him to come to a pre-Halloween party promising booze and girls.

But to say that Bucky wasn’t in a festive mood was an understatement. The thought of attempting to socialize and make nice was exhausting. Since the beginning of October, the entire facility seemed to have gone completely crazy with pumpkins and fake spiderwebs. When he escaped Tony’s cajoling and Steve’s sad disappointed eyes by heading to the gym to beat the shit out of some punching bags, he shared an elevator car with a grown man dressed in a turtle onesie, for fuck’s sakes.

He was sore from his workout. He hadn’t bothered with boxing gloves, just taped up his hands and went for it. The bloody, bruised skin on his hands protested mightily when he was done.

Bucky thought later that he really should have seen it coming with the way his day was going.

Picking up the dusty, ancient tome lying on the common room coffee table? Flipping through the delicate, aged pages and _reading_ from said ancient tome? And (oh Jesus, this is where it got real bad) accidentally _bleeding_ onto the words? Well, he didn’t see it coming, not at all.    

Not when the lights started flickering, or when a cold draft swirled around the room, or even when the door opened framing the dark figure that stood there.

Instead, he was startled as hell when the feminine voice spoke.

“Alright, dude, I haven’t got all night. What do you need?”

Bucky turned around from his place on the couch to stare at the woman in the doorway, her bored, pale face lit by the faint blue-white glow of the phone on which she was texting.

She looked up and he found that he recognized her. Darla or Darlene was Dr. Foster’s assistant. He had seen her around the facility, usually accompanied by some poor science interns she had managed to finagle into carrying heavy equipment for her. He’d noticed that she was beautiful, of course. Dark, wavy hair, big eyes, plush pink lips. He had sent her some furtive admiring glances from afar, but he never expected to have to interact with her.

“You summoned me, I’m here. So let’s get this show on the r-” she visibly startled when she got a good look at him, her blue eyes going round. “Oh. Whoa. Okay, unexpected. Um, Bucky, right? Or…Sergeant Barnes?”

“Bucky,” he supplied, rising from the couch to stand in front of her. “I don’t understand. I didn’t call you. Darla?”

“Darcy, actually. Okay, so you summoned me. With the book, and the reading, and like, usually there’s a drop of blood involved? I’m a…I guess some would say demon, but that goes waaay back. Not that we’re gonna get all ancestry dot com about it.”

What. The. Fuck.

“What the fuck?”

The demon – _Darcy_ exhaled a long drawn out exasperated sigh, but her gaze slid past him to catch on the open book on the coffee table and then the red spotting his wrapped knuckles.

“Ohh, I get it. Oh, this is a hoot. You summoned me by accident, buddy!” she laughed. She placed her phone in her pocket and regarded him with amused eyes. “I’ll go easy on ya. No weird pacts or anything, pinkie-promise.”

“I don’t want a pact, weird or otherwise.”

She barreled on, seemingly not hearing, flipping a tumble of chestnut hair behind her shoulder. She then began to count off on her fingers. “So here are the rules. No murder, no messing about with space-time, and no love spells or sex stuff. Not because I can’t but because that shit’s creepy. Got it?”

“What, exactly, about ‘no pacts’ are you not getting?” Bucky said in a near growl.

_Demons_ , he thought peevishly.

It wasn’t enough that he lived in Stark’s facility with an actual witch, a smartass with wings, an alien, and whatever the hell Banner was?

“I don’t want whatever the hell you do,” he continued. “I don’t want to celebrate Halloween, or dress up in a costume, or go to a party, and I sure as hell - ”

“Whoa whoa whoa. So here’s the thing. I’m um, not actually allowed to go away until I fulfill the terms of our agreement. I’m sort of…bound to you.”

“Bound to me,” Bucky repeated, thinking to the last time he was “bound” to something. The thought, full of pain and cold and fury, wasn’t pretty and his stomach roiled at it.

“Not like that!” Darcy hastily interjected as she noticed his expression. “It doesn’t hurt or anything. It sort of feels like when you’ve gone on a trip and you keep thinking you’ve left the stove on?” She scrunched her nose and the gesture was so _human_ he nearly forgot what she was and why she was still in his hair.

Nearly.

“Still don’t like it though.” Bucky moved towards her, slowly and intently. He’d never manhandle a civilian dame, but -

“Are those astronaut cat pajamas?” He squinted skeptically at the pink and purple space cat pattern on her pants.

“That’s a very judgey tone for someone who accidentally summoned a demon.”

“Thought you said you ain’t a demon.”

“Okay, fine. But I’m not full-blooded, if that’s what you mean.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, and pulled himself up into his full height. “I mean that I want you to leave me alone.”

“Can’t,” Darcy said simply, and hoisted herself up to sit on the kitchen countertop. She swung her legs back and forth and smiled at him expectantly.

“I can make you leave,” Bucky threatened, stalking closer towards her. Her eyes did widen a fraction but still she made no move to go away.

He thought back to all the stories Steve’s ma told of the old country. He shot out his arm, registering and savoring her small gasp, and flung open the cabinet door next to her head, pulling out a small, plastic container. Turning the box of salt carefully in his hands, he met her curious expression with a challenging glint in his own.

One corner of Darcy’s lips quirked upward. “Salt? I ate an entire can of Pringles in one sitting the other day. Nice try though.”

Bucky glowered. “Silver,” he said, as he placed the salt back and slammed the cupboard shut.

“That’s werewolves.”

“A Bible, then.” Bucky’s ma would’ve had his head for it, but he’d not had use for one since 1943. Maybe Steve might have one lying around.

Darcy gave him a sad, pitying look.

“That hasn’t worked on us for hundreds of years. You got anything else in there? Cumin? Paprika?” she asked in a voice like she was trying not to laugh at him.

Bucky sighed wearily.

Darcy tilted her head to the side and bit her lip. “Really you don’t want anything at all?” she asked.

“No.”

They were at a standoff.  He stood in front of her stiff and impatient and trying very, very hard not to just hoist her over his shoulder and deposit her back wherever she came from.

She gave him a considering look then her expression brightened considerably.

“I know! I’m gonna give you the best Halloween of all time.”

He tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how this was his life. He only came to the common room to maybe pinch one of Wilson’s beers out of the fridge. Now all he wanted was to go back to his quarters, unwrap his stinging knuckles, and take a hot shower.

“Sure. Fine. Will that get you to leave?”

Darcy grinned happily. “You betcha.”

“Alright.”

“Great!” She hopped off the counter and held out her hand.

“Nothing weird,” he warned.

“Right. Promise.”

And Bucky, whose mind alighted on all the numerous reasons why literally making a deal with a demon might be a bad idea, took a deep breath, steeled himself and grasped her small hand in his anyways.

He shook it firmly, once.

Nothing happened.

The surprise must have been apparent on his face because the woman in front of him rolled her eyes. He had a feeling she did that a lot.

“I should’ve known you heroes would go for the dramatics,” she said, wryly. “If it makes you feel better I can maybe conjure up some smoke. Lightning? Perhaps some bats?”

“No, uh. No, it’s fine.”

“Good. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Also, rabies is a thing.” She turned to leave, and waved at him over her shoulder, already re-engrossed in her cell phone. “’Night, Bucky! See ya ‘round!”

 

 

Bucky spent the next few days using his nearly century old assassin skills in a most unexpected way – avoiding a pretty girl.

The problem was, Darcy was _everywhere._

In the cafeteria, he saw her pushing a plate of pumpkin pie at Dr. Foster who had her nose buried in the pages of a science journal and he immediately tuned on his heel and left. The next day, he heard her cackling while she and Barton pelted each other with fake plastic spiders. He ducked into an empty room when she and Tony walked down the hall together, discussing Halloween candy ( _“People who give out Good N Plenty’s should do humanity a favor and just turn out their lights and pretend they’re not even home. That shit’s gross!”_ )

He had hoped that she had forgotten all about her promise to give him “The Best Halloween Ever” but of course he wasn’t so lucky.

Coming back from the gun range on Monday, Tony sidled up beside him matching his stride. He and Stark had come to be on grudgingly civil terms and he took Tony’s party invitations and strange nicknames for him (Paranoid Android, RoboCop) for what they were – an extended olive branch. And he tried to reciprocate, as Sam suggested, but despite being on the team he still felt most comfortable keeping to himself.

“Barnes,” said Tony and from his nearly manic tone Bucky knew he was in for it. “Your arm. We need to fix it. Come to my lab we’ll have a couple drinks, get some Stark tech in there, hey, you ever wanted a flamethrower?”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest (because alright yeah, he _did_ want a flamethrower but _not on his person,_ Jesus Christ, Stark _)_ when someone else answered for him.

“He can’t Tony, he’s hanging out with me today,” said Darcy. She nudged her elbow against his. “Hey,” she greeted, smiling up at him.

“Hey.”

Tony eyes ping-ponged comically between them both. “Huh. Okay. So. You two. Are you a Thing, now?”

Bucky replied in a flat tone, “Are we what.”

Before Tony could clarify, Darcy interrupted him.

“What we _are_ is going to lunch.” Darcy began to lead him away. “Later, Stark!”

Olive branch, Bucky thought, and made a mental note to meet with Tony later to do the arm thing.

But without the flamethrower. Maybe.

He followed Darcy to the lab floor, until finally, they came to a sliding glass door that opened when Darcy passed her badge in front of the security panel.

The scientists in Jane’s lab didn’t wear the dreaded white coats that still had him waking up in a cold sweat some nights but the sounds of the lab – the whirring and low electric hums of the machines – still made his heart thud and his shoulders tense. Quickly and automatically, he assessed the room. There were floor to ceiling windows at the far end, an emergency exit leading to the stairwell to his left and the glass door they came in required a pass. His options for improvised weapons were nearly limitless should something go south, and the thought comforted him a little.

“Jane should be done in a minute, we can sit at my desk.” Darcy rolled an office chair over to him and took a seat in her own. She had a little pillow embroidered with vines and leaves that she kept leaning up against the backrest of her chair. Darcy seemed to make everyday things her own, leaving her lively mark everywhere.

He carefully sat down and focused his galloping thoughts on Darcy, on her bright magenta sweater, on the strange toys and colorful pens that littered her desk.

They sat in quiet for a moment, Darcy shuffling then stapling some papers together and him trying very hard not to bolt out of there every time the lab doors opened to reveal another scientist bustling about.

Eventually, her relaxed manner set him a little more at ease and he felt himself lean back into his chair.

Bucky managed a line of conversation.

“So does Jane know? About….” He trailed off.

Darcy smiled and twirled a neon orange highlighter nimbly between her fingers. “Of course, she summoned me!”

“Really?”

“Oh totally. She _really_ needed an intern, and I’m like super great at math. That’s one of my things, you know.”

“Your…powers?”

Darcy nodded. “That and…” she gestured significantly at a travel tumbler of coffee on her desk.

“And you make coffee?”

This earned him another eyeroll. Darcy stuck the highlighter to join a bunch of others into cup that had ‘BLACK HOLES SUCK’ written on it.

“No, Barnes. I can keep water at a constant hot temperature in perpetuity!” she said proudly.

He tried and failed to hold back a bark of laughter. “Yeah? So can a hot plate.”

“Rude,” Darcy huffed and stuck out her tongue at him.

He grinned in response. It was easy to slip into the easy banter of friendship with Darcy, he found. She might be a demon (and Christ, did it hurt the hell out of his head to think too closely on that one) but she seemed to treat him as she did everyone else – with easygoing friendliness.

Jane called out from somewhere behind a lab bench, intruding on his musings. “Play nice with my assistant, Sergeant!” She waved a wrench in his direction in a manner that he supposed was meant to be menacing. “I don’t care how many presidents you’ve allegedly killed, I _will_ send you through a wormhole!”

Bucky paused thoughtfully. “I think it was probably just the one,” he murmured.

“Not that this conversation isn’t getting delightfully terrifying but have either of you dorks thought about what you want to order for lunch?” Darcy reached into her desk drawer, then fanned out a series of take out menus on the table.

“Food,” suggested Jane helpfully, and went back to doing something that involved a bunch of clanging sounds and a rather alarming ‘pop’.

Darcy let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, Barnes. You’re the guest of honor. You choose.”

Bucky didn’t know where to start. There were glossy full-color menus with the restaurant name in fancy script, plainer ones offering cuisines he’d never even heard of, not to mention four separate menus for pizza alone. In the end, he went with something that looked safe – a place called Dave’s Deli. With a bit of hesitation, he slid it out from the others with one silver index finger.

“Yes!!” declared Darcy to his relief. “Jane! We’re getting Dave’s!” she yelled over her shoulder.

“I want the pastrami sandwich!” answered Jane.

Darcy was on the phone with the deli soon enough, giving them their order, extra-large now that they were also feeding a super soldier.

Bucky held Darcy’s peacoat out for her slip into ( _“A gentleman! Oh, my stars and garters!”_ she drawled in a terrible Southern accent) then watched as she pulled on a slouchy orange knit cap and a pair of matching mittens. _Mittens._ He really wanted to ask her if she was sure she was a demon but he also really didn’t want to be sent through Dr. Foster’s wormhole.

“My keys are in my bag,” Jane said, as she plucked a pen off of Darcy’s desk.

“Won’t need ‘em,” Darcy replied and turned to give Bucky a mischievous grin. She held out a set of keys, giving them a little shake. They jingled merrily. “Snagged these offa Stark. Bucky, you ever wanted to drive an incredibly overpriced hunk of metal?”

Bucky beamed.

 

 

Ten minutes into their car ride in Tony Stark’s bright red Lamborghini Roadster, Darcy stiffened beside him. Bucky glanced over at her, one hand on the wheel, steering the powerful machine through the road lined with evergreens and trees showing off their orange and yellow leaves.

“Dude,” she gasped. “Do you even have a driver’s license?!”

Bucky, feeling as relaxed as he’d ever been, only chuckled and turned up the music.

“That was _so_ not an answer!”

 

 

Dave’s Deli was bustling with the lunch rush.

“It’ll probably be another ten minutes while we finish up that order,” admitted the harried-looking cashier. “It was pretty big. You kids throwin’ a party or something?”

Darcy held back a snort. “Yeah, something like that.”

After Darcy paid with her Stark card, he followed her out into the crisp fall air and onto the narrow cobblestone sidewalk.

The small town had gone all out for the season. On every lamppost were decorative wreaths of straw and autumn flowers in deep oranges and purples. Most storefronts were adorned with pumpkins, sheaths of wheat, or cutouts of black cats and cartoon monsters.

It had irked him before, for some reason he couldn’t name, how everyone became so excessively festive for what he remembered as a child’s holiday. But now he couldn’t keep his eyes off how Darcy soaked all of it in with total contentment.

“Pretty great, huh?” asked Darcy when she saw him looking around. She ran her hand over a shop’s window box of wilted yellow chrysanthemums, and Bucky had to blink a few times when they perked up under her touch, the petals taking on a brighter color and the leaves becoming lush and green.

“Yeah.” Across the street, a woman came out of a vintage clothing shop and set up a scarecrow next to her door. It was dressed in a giant feathered hat and paisley bellbottoms. “Is this - normal?”

“The decorations? Well it’s not unheard of anyways. My cousin, Sammie, he lives in the Midwest and lemme tell you _those_ guys go all out every year,” she said dreamily. “Be glad you didn’t summon him, though. That kid is _super_ into jack o’lanterns.”

Before he could ask her to elaborate, her face lit up at the chalk board sign on the sidewalk in front of a tiny café.

“Wait here,” she told him excitedly, rocking on her heels. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”

Darcy disappeared into the little coffee shop and came back a bit later carrying a small cardboard cup in each hand.

“Here,” she said, and handed him one. “Think of this as part of your Three C’s of Halloween.”

“Three C’s?” Ribbons of steam drifted up from the opening in the lid. Bucky sniffed it curiously, and immediately the warm scents cinnamon and nutmeg filled his nostrils.

“Costumes, Confections, and Cinema,” Darcy answered and she pursed distracting deep red lips to blow on her beverage before taking a sip. She left a lovely maroon stain on the white lid. “You get a pass on the costumes part, I guess. I’ve seen you in your black leather getup which by the way, my compliments, excellent work, 10/10.”

Bucky’s mind struggled to keep up the stream of babble from her mouth but there was enough of the old him left that he caught and hung onto the compliment she’d nestled in there. Something in him clenched pleasantly at the thought.

“This can be the Confections part,” she continued. “Since I know you and Steve hoard candy like sugar-starved dragons, we can move on to drinks. A fall beverage is nearly a requirement to properly enjoy the season.”

He took his own sip but then nearly spit it right back out. Darcy had said ‘beverage’ but what he gulped down (burning all the way) was thick and extremely sugary and left him with some kind of chalky-spicy aftertaste. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“Not that I ain’t thankful but uh – what the hell is this?” Bucky furrowed his brows and turned the little cup in his hand seeking out a label.

“Oh. It’s a Caramel Pumpkin Latte. Sometimes they go a little heavy on the pumpkin syrup. You don’t like it?”

And Darcy had looked so disappointed, those big blue eyes under her silly knit cap turning sad that Bucky immediately felt like a heel. Here a gorgeous dame had bought him a coffee and he was staring it down like it was the sloppy gruel they shoved at him in Siberia.

“No, doll, it’s nice,” he reassured quickly. “It’s…it’s sweet.”

“Well, Steve said you had a sweet tooth so I thought maybe you’d like this.”

She’d talked to Steve? About him? About the things he might like? Something warm and light bloomed in his chest that had nothing to do with the damned pumpkin flavored coffee.

“Might take some getting used to is all,” he said and forced himself to take another sip. It wasn’t as bad this time now that he’d prepared himself. And he liked the caramel part just fine. “This old soldier’s just used to plain black swill they serve in the canteen.”

Darcy laughed and the sound lifted the worry in him immediately. “Well, in this century there’s like, a million variations on coffee. We’ll just have to find one you like.”

“I like this fine,” he protested and even took another drink to show her.

Darcy scoffed, slipped a mittened hand in his and led him back to the deli. “C’mon, I bet our order’s ready by now.”

 

 

 

Back at the lab, he, Darcy, and Jane feasted on sandwiches and the best chicken soup he’d ever had in his long life.

“Coffee,” Darcy said, pointing at him with a little plastic soup spoon when he got up to leave. “Tomorrow.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” he replied with a smirk before he headed towards the elevators.

With some surprise, he found that he meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, shoutout to Queenspuppet! If Swans Island was a real place, she’d be Mayor <3

 

_“I’m so glad to live in a world where there are Octobers.”_

\- Anne, Anne of Green Gables

 

\------

Darcy’s great-aunt Haagenti, she of the bull’s head and griffin wings, was always her favorite.

When Darcy was little, she would sit on her lap and run her hands along her aunt’s magnificent iridescent gold feathers. Haagenti would tell her stories about the sneaky tricks she’d play on human Conjurers if they were cruel and about her great-grandpa Vapula, who could be convinced to revert to his winged lion form after several strong drinks.

But for all her fun anecdotes, great-aunt Haagenti was always deadly serious when she told her, “Make sure the Task is simple and can be quickly given. Never bind yourself to a Conjurer longer than necessary.”

She’d only half-listened because yes, of course great-aunt Haagenti’s tasks could be quickly finished.

_She_ could turn metals to gold and water into wine. Somewhere down the line, the powers granted to Darcy had been diluted. She didn’t even have the griffin wings that were the hallmark of her branch of the family - only the faint gold outlines of wings on her shoulder blades. And no one needed her powers too much anymore now that modern electricity and online learning courses were a thing.

Still, Darcy wished she’d paid better attention. Telling Bucky that she’d help him have the best Halloween when it was still weeks to the holiday meant that she woke every morning feeling anxious and jittery with the knowledge that her Task still wasn’t done.

It didn’t help that Darcy’s plan for the Three C’s hit a roadblock on one C.

Cinema.

Costumes, as she told him with that embarrassing bout of verbal diarrhea, she gave him a pass on.

(Although she did once find a coffee table book on vintage World War II propaganda posters that for some reason depicted Bucky wearing bright red tights and gloves. She sort of wanted to put a request in for that, but she also wanted to keep her head attached to her body.)

Confections were a work in progress and she was actually having a lot of fun trying to figure out what he liked best.

But Cinema. She had no idea where to start. Of course, Halloween meant horror movies but she didn’t want to trigger anything awful by showing him anything with jump scares or gore. Unfortunately, that ruled out a great deal of seasonally festive masterpieces and not-so-masterpieces.

She’d almost given up when one night, to her astonishment, Bucky unceremoniously plopped down beside her on the common room couch as she, Jane, and Sam started watching _Clue._ Neither Jane nor Sam commented as if Bucky were a skittish stray cat that they didn’t want to startle into fleeing.

Darcy merely tamped down her surprise and greeted, “Hey, dude.”

Wordlessly, Bucky pulled out a bag of sour gummy skulls from his hoodie pocket and passed it to her. Then Jane made popcorn and Sam poured out sodas for all of them, and they all settled in for the rest of the movie.

The next day she found him solemnly intoning to a bewildered Clint, “Communism was just a red herring.”

Then as if he could feel her staring, Bucky turned to her with a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his mouth and _winked._

 

 

 

 

**_Autumn Festival!!!_ **

**_Food! Games! Spooky Fun!_ **

 

Darcy yanked the bright orange flyer down from the corkboard outside of the cafeteria and slipped it into her pocket. She headed for Bucky’s quarters meaning to slide it under his door, but she ran into both him and Steve as they were exiting the elevators.

They must have been coming back from a run because they were both clad in gym shorts and Under Armour shirts that were a mite too snug for those bulging arm muscles. Steve had a towel draped about his neck but Bucky was running his over his damp hair. Her eyes followed the one droplet of sweat that made its way down the hollow of his throat.

Darcy swallowed once then shook herself out of it. She walked right up to Bucky and slapped the flyer against his solid chest. He clutched at it reflexively.

“Autumn Fest is this weekend,” she said matter-of-factly, proud of how steady her voice sounded. “We should go unless you’re too busy listening to sad old music on your gramophone, or whatever.”

Pressing the wrinkles out of the flyer, Bucky replied dryly, “Got a StarkPhone for that now.”

Darcy put a hand on her waist then tilted her head at a bemused Steve. “You should come, too!”

Steve’s eyes darted between Bucky and Darcy briefly then he smiled. “Oh, I can’t. I’ve got uh – a meeting.”

“What, all weekend?” Darcy raised her eyebrows.

“Yes,” he said simply, and clapped a hand at Bucky’s shoulder. “You two have fun, now. I have to go –“

“Let me guess. To a meeting,” finished Darcy and Steve smiled impishly while happily ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“You got it.” Steve sauntered off looking entirely too proud of himself.

“That punk’s always been about as subtle as a grenade to the face,” muttered Bucky apologetically as he watched his friend go. He then turned to her with a smile that was almost shy. “Tell you what. You get the keys to one of Stark’s wheels and I’ll get us there in style, doll.”

 

 

They arrived at Autumn Fest in Jane’s 2007 VW Jetta.

Stark took one look at them as they were gleefully heading out then held out his hand for the pilfered keys to his new Bugatti Chiron. And as Bucky parked the car in the “lot”, which was really just a spot in a slightly muddy field, Darcy thought that maybe it was for the best. As it was, the spatter of mud and grass on the side of Jane’s car told her that she’d have to send it through a carwash before it got back to its rightful owner.

But thoughts of that were pushed to the side as Darcy and Bucky made their way through the Festival gates.

It was edging into late-afternoon. The sun was keeping most of the chill away and what lingered could be remedied easily enough with any one of the kiosks touting coffee, hot chocolate, or mulled cider.

Darcy breathed all of it in. The scents surrounding them – sweet autumn leaves, cool air, the faint hint of woodsmoke and popcorn made her almost giddy. She could tell it was even affecting Bucky too, and he followed her eagerly when she made a beeline to the first stand offering kettle corn she found.

Bucky insisted that he pay for the Thor-sized bag of popcorn and they munched and chatted while meandering through the fairgrounds.

“So, if Jane summoned you, how are you with me now?” he asked dodging a bunch of kids running towards the stand that sold cotton candy.

“Well I’d pretty much fulfilled my duties to Jane the second I signed the papers to be her intern at Culver. And then I just…stuck around since Jane’s pretty rad, I guess.”

“You’ve been with her a long time then?”

“Since before New Mexico. Then Thor happened, and Loki, and that shit in London. It’s been bananas for a while but at least she’s being taken more seriously by other scientists now. And having Thor around certainly helps.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Darcy chuckled. “They’re both good for each other. Jane and I have both dated some clunkers. I mean, this one guy’s idea of a date was taking Jane to the Culver library to show her his graduate thesis.”

Under his baseball cap, Bucky’s face twisted a little.

“This fuckin’ century,” he muttered, taking a handful of kettle corn from the bag she offered. “That ain’t a date. My memory’s fuzzy some days but I definitely recall dinner and dancin’. Flowers at least.”

“That’s where you’re wrong! What matters is _intent_. Anything can be a date. Coffee, birdwatching,” she paused then added, “...Pottery painting.”

Bucky huffed out a plume of breath in the chill air. “S’that what they’re callin’ it these days?”

Darcy cheeks pinked. “Hey, one of my exes did take me pottery painting.”

“And?” he asked, while gently maneuvering her out of the way of a woman pushing a stroller the size of a Smart car.

She answered wistfully, “And that stupid decorative plate lasted longer than he and I did, that’s for sure.”

“Like I said. Dinner and dancing and flowers.”

“Is that what got you all the ladies back in the day?”

“Maybe,” he hedged, ducking his chin a little, and Darcy was silent leaving him to what she supposed were memories of red lipstick, curled hair, and twirling skirts.

They wandered around, browsing booths full of locally made crafts and kiosks selling snacks.

Darcy picked up some cinnamon and amber scented goats milk soap for Jane (anything to encourage her to leave the labs once in a while to bathe) and a jar of local honey for Thor, who had recently discovered the joys of peanut butter and honey sandwiches. She also convinced Bucky to get a leather-bound sketch book for Steve _(“I guess he deserves it. Mighta dislocated his jaw a little while sparring the other day.” Then at her horrified look, he protested, “What? It was only a little!”_ ).

Eventually, they came upon a giant wooden arrow pointing to where a small crowd had begun to line up.

“C’mon,” Darcy said, following the wooden signs. “We _have_ to do the Haunted Corn Maze. I’ll only make fun of you a little if you need to hide behind me.”

But they both found that their trip to the maze was not meant to be when a worker dressed in a white sheet jumped out at Darcy near the entrance.

She shrieked before could stop herself and in a moment, Bucky had shoved her behind him with his right arm while his left hand clutched at the collar one very panicked Maze performer.

“S-Sorry!” squeaked the “ghost” and it pulled off its plastic mask to reveal a red-faced teenage boy. He held up his hands by his head and his eyes were wide.

“Shit,” Bucky said under his breath as he unclenched his hand from the shirt. “I’m sorry,” he apologized to the kid who then scuttled off in the opposite direction.

Only a couple onlookers had turned their heads at the commotion, for which Darcy was grateful. She tugged on Bucky’s sleeve and led him behind stacked bales of hay where they were mostly out of the way of the crowds.

“You okay?” Bucky asked her gruffly, not meeting her gaze.

“Yes, but – God, Bucky, I’m so sorry, that was stupid of me.” She kicked herself over the massive miscalculation. Of course Bucky wouldn’t respond well to some stupid haunted maze. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry about,” he said with a frustrated sigh. Bucky took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m ruining this, huh?” He wrung the cap between his hands so hard Darcy thought he was going to twist the bill right off.

Agitation was rolling off of him in waves and Darcy wished she had her aunt Haagenti’s guidance right about now. Then again, her aunt would probably just ask if Bucky wanted a gold arm.

“It was just a corn maze,” Darcy said and threaded her fingers though his. She squeezed his hand gently and was relieved when he didn’t pull away. “Don’t worry about it. This was supposed to be about you anyways. Best Halloween Ever, remember?”

Bucky managed a tight-lipped smile.

“Do you wanna go home?” Darcy asked.

“No,” answered Bucky fitting his cap back on. “I’m – well, aside from what just happened, I’m having a good time.” His expression under the brim of his hat was almost bashful before he added, “With you.”

At that Darcy couldn’t help but grin wide. “Good,” she said, softly.

“Just didn’t think some kid in a shitty maze could scare me more than an actual demon, is all.”

She shoved at his solid shoulder and he hardly moved an inch. “To be fair, he _was_ a ghost.”

 

Bucky suggested their next activity be something less nerve-wracking and Darcy agreed.

But she was a little skeptical as they stood in front of a giant tent on which was draped a banner that read, “Spooky Fun for All Ages!!”.

“Pumpkin carving. _That’s_ what you wanna do next?”

“The movies and drinks might be a little different nowadays, but pumpkin carving I know I can do.” He turned to her with a challenge in his eyes and smirk on his lips. “Or do you not know how?” he teased.

“…I’m gonna kick your ass at pumpkin carving, Bucky Barnes.”

And with that, they both paid for the privilege to enter their pumpkins into the carving contest even though the true “professionals” had entered their elaborately and expertly carved pumpkins earlier in the day. They passed the displays of owls and ghouls and sharp fanged vampires. Someone had used several huge pumpkins to make a dragon, each of its individual scales intricately engraved on its body.

“The proceeds go to the library,” said the lady who handed them a set of blunt child-safe carving tools. “And the pumpkins will decorate the library lawn on Halloween night! You should come check it out.”

“We’ll try,” said Bucky as he inspected the pumpkins they picked out, brushing the dirt off of them and thumping them gently with his knuckles. Satisfied, he tucked one under each arm then followed Darcy to a quiet corner away from wandering kids and chattering people. They sat on the straw-covered ground and began to carve.

Soon Darcy discovered two things:

  * Bucky was surprisingly good at pumpkin carving, especially when he eschewed their issued tools and used his own Gerber knife that he pulled from his boot.
  * That she shouldn’t be allowed to carve pumpkins without a stencil.



“It’s not that bad,” Darcy protested, tracing her finger over the little malformed blob that was supposed to be an eye. “A little…rustic, maybe.”

“Sweetheart, it’s _lopsided,”_ said Bucky and tilted his head to get a better look at the crooked face smiling maniacally at him with jagged teeth.

From behind her, someone spoke.

“Yikes.”

Darcy turned around to a little redheaded boy, his face dusted with freckles. He couldn’t have been more than six and was wearing a Hulk t-shirt. “What is _that?”_ the boy asked.

From the corner of her eye, Bucky was definitely pressing his lips together to hold back laughter.

“It’s a jack o’lantern,” Darcy said, motioning to her attempt.

“Oh.” The boy paused thoughtfully. “S’okay,” he continued, and he comfortingly patted her shoulder with one small hand. “My mom says everyone can get better with practice.”

At that, Bucky couldn’t contain himself anymore and burst into guffaws, clutching his stomach and actually falling back on his heels then onto the ground.

“Brandon! Get back here!” a woman’s voice called out.

“Gotta go,” Brandon said. “Keep practicing!”

Darcy turned to a still laughing Bucky. He was running the back of hand over his eyes to wipe away his tears of laughter. At the sight of the crinkle in his nose and the dimples on his cheeks, she couldn’t help but grin back. She kicked at the muddy toe of his boot.

“And for that I’m making you buy me cider doughnuts,” she said to him.

She had him buy half a dozen of them, and watched hungrily as the vendor plucked them out of the frying oil with tongs and sprinkled them with generous amounts of sugar.

“These are gonna blow your freaking mind,” she promised him, opening the bag to release the scent of warm, sweet, fried dough.

He shrugged. “S’just a doughnut.”

“Wait till you try these. They taste best when they’re fresh.” She handed him one from the paper bag.

He took a bite and her eyes dipped to his mouth, to the sight of his pink tongue licking the errant crystals of sugar off his lips.

“They’re really good,” Bucky declared with some surprise, jolting her out of her reverie. Pleasure flicked across his face as he then proceeded to eat the rest of the doughnut in two huge bites.

Darcy finished hers almost as fast, despite the dough being almost too hot. She always thought it tasted best that way.

“You can have the rest,” Darcy giggled when she caught him eyeing the bag even as he was still chewing.

They went back to buy another two dozen to bring back for their friends. At Bucky’s longing look, Darcy decided to put the trays in the trunk of the car out of the way of any super soldiers with a sweet tooth and a sneaky hand.

In the end, they were a huge hit that managed to entice even Tony out of his workshop. Everyone had gathered in the common room at the mere mention of cider doughnuts and soon Natasha and Clint were arguing over what movie to watch next.

Darcy was about to leave for her apartment, eager for a relaxing bath after a long day, but Bucky caught her at the door.

“Hey, thanks for makin’ me go out today,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, no problem. I had a good time.” She clapped him on the shoulder like she’d seen Steve do.

“Me too.” Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

They stood at the threshold, the sounds of the rest of the team chattering and eating and good-naturedly ribbing each other in the background until Darcy huffed out, “Oh for cripes sakes” and wrapped her arms around Bucky’s waist and pulled him close.

Bucky exhaled a little laugh then slid his arms around her too. For a moment, there was only the warmth of him and the feel of his palms flexing against her back, pressing her closer to him.

 

 

A couple days later, Darcy was tracking Bucky down to ask if he wanted to try some Mexican hot chocolate from a food truck she heard about when she got sidetracked by a commotion coming from the conference room down the hall.

Sam was leaning against the wall, arms crossed about his chest looking put-upon and long-suffering and Darcy knew at once that Steve and Bucky were involved somehow.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked Sam over the sound of muffled shouting.

“Barnes wants in on the mission to Gomel. Steve doesn’t think it’s a good idea. They’re…discussing it,” Sam explained with a roll of his eyes. Distantly, the raised voices began to yell over each other and Darcy could hear the words “too dangerous” and “extraction”.

“Gomel?”

“Belarus. We picked up some chatter that HYDRA might be trying to set up another base there.”

From down the hall, a door slammed shut and a very pissed looking Bucky exited the conference room. He didn’t even acknowledge Darcy or Sam as he stalked past them, face stormy beneath his long strands of hair and fists clenched tight at his sides.

“I’m gonna – ” Darcy started as her eyes followed Bucky down the hall.

“Right,” sighed Sam as he pushed off the wall then headed in the opposite direction to Steve. “Good luck.”

She found him on the roof. He sat with his legs hanging over the ledge, broad shoulders hunched tight under his worn leather jacket. He looked off somewhere into the distance, a cigarette between two metal fingers. He brought it up to his lips and the tip flickered orange.

“Darcy,” he said simply, not even turning to look at her. He probably heard her coming from a mile away.

She sat down next to him cross-legged and shoved down the urge to yelp at the cold seeping through her cardigan and jeans. He tilted his hand towards her, offering her a drag.

“No, thanks,” she answered, hugging her arms around herself against the chill of night.

“M’ tryna quit, if you can believe it,” Bucky said after a beat or two of silence. His tone was almost apologetic. “Was told hardly anyone does it anymore. Funny. I don’t think I ever wanted to while I was under with HYDRA. How’s that for a quittin’ program, huh?”

“ _That_ ,” she said with steel in her voice. “Is not funny.”

Bucky shrugged one shoulder carelessly and blew out a plume of smoke from the corner of his upticked mouth. He ground the rest of the cigarette into the concrete.

“The hell are you doin’ up here anyways?” He sent her a glance equal parts suspicion and censure.  “It’s fuckin’ cold,” he said even as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

It was still warm from his body heat and smelled faintly of clean soap and leather. It was so _him_ that her stomach did some kind of swooping thing she didn’t want to think about.

“I was looking for you.” Darcy followed his gaze out to the trees that surrounded the facility. She bit at the corner of her lip. “So. Belarus,” she said.

“Belarus.”

“And you’re going.”

He nodded once, sharply. “We fly out tomorrow morning.”

They sat in silence for a little bit, the autumn wind whipping around them occasionally, tangling strands of her hair. The forest stretched ahead of them, inky black against the night sky.

“I had to knock some sense into Steve to even be _allowed_ to go along and now I – I’m wondering if he wasn’t right. I hate it when that punk’s right.”

“You could stay,” Darcy said and the thought sounded unlikely even to her ears. She knew that none of the Avengers were the type to sit out a fight, especially not against HYDRA.

“Can’t do that either. Don’t like the idea of the entire team out there and me sitting in my room twiddling my thumbs.” Bucky ran a hand over his face. “I can’t go back to them,” he said frankly. “I can’t. I won’t.”

“You won’t. You know you’ve got the entire team with you, right?” She wanted to take his hands in hers, to wrap him up in a hug but instead she pulled the edges of his jacket tighter around herself.

“I know.”

“Steve, Tony.  And Sam and Clint and Natasha. I mean, everyone should be terrified of Natasha if they know what’s good for them.”

“True.” He said no more.

There was a furrow between his brows, and his jaw was clenched tight. It was hard to believe that just a couple days ago he was teasing her about her poor ugly pumpkin and smiling at her over a shared bag of cider doughnuts.

Her decision made, Darcy licked her lips and cupped her palms together. Closing her eyes, she thought _strength_ and _protection_ and _safe journeys._ Soon, the space between her hands grew hot and her shoulder blades began to tingle and she knew that had she not been wearing Bucky’s jacket, her “wings” would glow straight through her cardigan.

When she opened her eyes, she held a deep purple dahlia in her palm. The tips of the petals still glowed faintly gold from the protection spell she wove into it. Charms weren’t her specialty at all and it took a lot out of her to conjure it. Already, her temples were starting to pound and she felt a bit drowsy. But if it was going to keep Bucky safe, then the headache that she knew was going to plague her for the next couple days was absolutely worth it.

She turned to Bucky and held her hands out to him. She half-expected that he’d refuse but he only looked adorably puzzled before she explained.

“This is for you,” Darcy said, and gently placed the flower in his palm. “For protection. And luck. Keep it with you.”

Bucky held it almost delicately like it was spun glass, liable to break or shatter at any moment. His fingers traced the edges of the dark petals so softly and reverently that a shiver made its way up Darcy’s spine.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He cleared his throat. “I will.”

Then, before she let herself overthink it, she leaned over and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

She allowed herself only a couple seconds to linger, just enough to register the faint pricks of his stubble against her lips, to catch the spicy scent of his aftershave.

When she pulled back it was to a slightly dazed looking super soldier.

“For double the luck,” she told him with a tiny smile, then left him to the rest of his night.

 

 

\------

 

 

And though Bucky held the dahlia, the petals silky and preternaturally warm in his hand, he knew that it was the sensation of her soft lips on his cheek that he would keep with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I chose the dahlia because it’s one of my favorite flowers but when I looked it up, the internet told me that it can mean staying graceful under pressure, inner strength…and commitment. So. ;)
> 
> \- If you liked this chapter, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> \- Find me on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- All of the cider doughnuts and hot chocolate to Queenspuppet! <3 <3

 

_“If the Great Pumpkin comes, I’ll put in a good word for you!”_

\- Linus, _It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_

 

 

“Christ, Barton, you ever think about cuttin’ down on the pizza?” Bucky groused as he readjusted the other man’s arm over his shoulder.

From behind him came the sound of crumbling rubble and the ground shook with the small rumbling of an explosion.

The Gomel op had gone smoothly. For the most part. They’d caught the HYDRA agents unawares and took and secured the warehouse that was functioning as their base. But as expected, HYDRA didn’t believe in going down without a fight.

Clint had yelled for backup and after taking out the agents that had converged on Hawkeye on the roof, he found the archer himself shoving his way out from under a slumped dead body.

“Sure, gramps,” Clint said from beside him. He was leaning heavily on Bucky and favoring his right foot. “Tell me more about boiled beef and powdered milk, again?”

“We’re headin’ out, pick it up you two.” Steve’s - no the _Captain’s_ \- voice came over the comms.

“Yeah, some of us have dates with hot journalists to get back to,” came Sam’s drawl in his earpiece.

“Hey,” protested Clint, who perhaps decided to defend the guy carrying some of his weight. “Barnes has got a…a gal.” He said the word like he was trying it out the first time. “Don’tcha, buddy.” He gave Bucky a slightly woozy smile.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Bucky muttered and yanked a slightly slumping Clint up by the side of his vest.

“Your gal who brings you coffee,” supplied Steve, the ever-helpful bastard.

“Ain’t my gal. And the coffee’s…we’re just trying different flavors.” The explanation sounded lame to his own ears.

“Try a pump of cheesecake syrup next time,” Sam suggested. The sound of more rubble falling in the distance was echoed in his ears. “It’s surprisingly good.”

“Y’know, Wilson? Sometimes you really worry me.”

“Ah, shut the hell up, Barnes,” Sam said companionably.

The quinjet was in sight. Sam was poking his head out with a great big grin on his face, probably with a smartass comment at the ready, but Clint was flagging, limping slower and slower. Bucky wasn’t feeling too hot either.

“You gotta help me out here, Birdbrain. I ain’t bridal carryin’ ya to the jet.” His words came out in a pained grumble.

“Why the fuck not, I’m pretty as hell.” Still, Barton repositioned himself, took a couple breaths, and soon they were moving again.

In the jet, Clint removed his gear, set his bow to the side and carefully slid into his seat with a long groan. His eyes were shut tight and sweat was beading at his temples. Natasha looked him over for one second then arched one eyebrow in question. She nodded her chin towards his boots.

“Your left?” she inquired as she adjusted the widow’s bites at her wrists.

Clint grunted.

“Broken?”

“Yep.”

“Ribs?”

“Just bruised, I think.”

She squeezed his shoulder apologetically as she headed to the front. “I’ll call ahead to medical,” she sighed.

“Aww, no.”

Bucky would have sat down too if he could just catch his breath. The walk from the compound must have taken more out of him than he thought. Everything felt tight and there was grey that periodically crept at the edge of his vision. Probably he bruised some ribs too during the shootout with the HYDRA agents on the roof.  

“Buck, you alright?” Steve was now looking at him with concern etched on his face.

Bucky nodded tersely but leaned his arm on the bulkhead. His legs felt wobbly.

“Yeah man, sit down before you fall down,” Sam added with a frown. He even moved over a bit making room for him.

Shit, he must look real bad.

“M’fine, it’s just my – ” his hand went to his chest where the dull pain from a moment before was now blooming hot and sharp. His fingers fumbled at the straps of his tac vest.

His hand came away wet.

He could only blink as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing.

His fingers were wet. Slightly slippery.

Red.

“Damn it.”

Then his vision went black.

 

\------

 

 

Bucky was weightless in the dark. He didn’t know how long he had been there but knew that he shouldn’t be there. He had somewhere to be. Somewhere _._

Then he began moving, wading really, even though he couldn’t see his own limbs, through something like molasses to consciousness.

He opened his eyes and everything was white, too-bright, and he shut them quickly. A slightly metallic, antiseptic smell filled his nostrils.

This time he blinked slowly, cautiously and the lights weren’t as bad.

A familiar face was above his. Blond. Blue eyes.

The man on the -  

Wait. No. _No._ Stevie. _His friend._

“Buck? …He’s awake! _Dr. Cho_!” Steve called out, turning away from him.

He winced. Stop yelling, he wanted to tell Steve. His eyelids felt heavy. He’d just close them for a bit and when he woke, he’d tell Steve to stop his yammering. Just for a bit.

 

 

“For double the luck,” she had said, that night on the roof. And then she’d so sweetly pressed those beautiful lush lips against his cheek, making him feel warm all over. Warmer than anyone like him ever deserved.

She gave him something…a flower. The flower that kept him safe. He knew nothing about magic, just that having it with him made him feel closer to her and so he’d kept it with him. Shoved the delicate looking thing behind a strap in his vest. Close to his chest. His heart.

Where was it now? Wasn’t he supposed to keep it with him? Someone (Nat?) told him it was a dahlia.

He only knew that it was his. Where was it?

“Shhh, shhh. It’s here,” someone said, a woman. He’d spoken out loud. It was a woman’s voice that answered him. But not hers.

Darcy.

She wasn’t Darcy. When he opened his eyes it was to kind, brown eyes and an oval face framed with jet-black hair. The woman’s smile was gentle and patient. “We took it out of your jacket. It’s on the table, see?”

He followed her pointed finger to where the dahlia was on the bedside table. Good.

“You need to rest, Sergeant Barnes. You’re still healing.”

Rest. Rest sounded good.

 

 

When he woke next it was to Sam and Clint by his bedside. Clint was leaning his weight on a crutch and twirling the dahlia by its stem. He grinned when he saw that he was awake.

Sam spoke first, raising his eyebrows wryly. “Finally. Damn. Haven’t you super soldiers had enough sleep?”

“Put me back to sleep so’s I don’t gotta wake to your ugly mug,” he rasped.

“Good to have you back, man,” Sam said, smiling wide.

“Yeah, you gave us a scare,” Clint added.

Bucky nodded. It hurt a bit to talk, and he was still a drowsy. He frowned at the sight of Clint poking curiously at the petals of the dahlia still on the bedside table. “Hey, Birdbrain Two. Don’t touch my fuckin’ flower.”

“Cranky,” Clint stated, but placed the bloom back on the table. “How you feelin’?”

He made to sit up and immediately the two other men were at his side, Clint showing him how to work the controls on the side of the bed and Sam to press a plastic cup of water into his hand. He drank it down in huge gulps.

“Alright,” he answered after soothing his parched throat. “Kinda like Steve roundhouse kicked me in the chest.” He ran a hand over his chest and held back a grimace. It ached and felt tight still.

“If I roundhouse kicked you in the chest, you’d know it,” commented Steve from the doorway.

“Hey, punk,” Bucky said as Steve made his way over to the hospital bed. “How long was I out?”

“A day. It was touch and go there for a while.”

“Shit.” The fussing of his teammates, which had made him mildly uncomfortable, suddenly made more sense.

“You were _shot_ , man. Through the _lung._ I’d say you’re lucky as hell.” Sam leaned against the arm of a hospital chair. “Your serum started repairing your damaged tissue almost immediately but Dr. Cho still needed to put you into the Cradle. That plus the serum are healing you faster than any human has a right to, but you still need to rest here for a while.”

He inwardly groaned. It must have shown on his face because Steve cast him a rueful smile in commiseration.

“It’s just a couple more days, Buck,” Steve said and gave his hand a squeeze.

Clint made his way over to his food tray lying untouched on the table and picked up a chocolate pudding cup. “You gonna eat this?”

 

 

Tony didn’t come to visit, the op to Gomel having convinced him to modify his suits again, but sent him a bottle of Macallan 18-year-old whiskey.

 

 

Natasha did come to visit, but didn’t stay very long. She simply told him to get well soon so they could continue their sparring. The very evil glint in her eyes told him she was gonna make him pay for worrying her.

 

 

But eventually he was ready to crawl up the walls. Dr. Cho came by to check his chart and reprimand him about taking it easy and staying in bed. Trays of bland food were also dropped off for him but no one lingered when it became clear that super soldiers made ornery patients.

Convalescing in the twenty first century certainly had more distractions than the dreary medical tents during the war. He definitely didn’t miss the hard cots, itchy and thin blankets, and the constant threat of being ambushed by the enemy.

There was a flat screen television mounted on the wall across from the bed and he had his StarkPhone. But despite what he mentioned to Darcy, there was no music on his phone and he soon discovered that twenty-first century television left a lot to be desired.

Once, he had tried to slip out the window.

Tried.

Dr. Cho’s sharp bark of, “Get back in here _now_ , soldier!” was partly Mrs. Barnes, partly his fourth-grade teacher Miss Gillespie. He’d never admit it except under extreme torture, but she spooked him enough that he slinked back to the bed.

He was doing his hourly cycle of flipping through the channels, when there was a flurry of movement in the doorway. A blur of teal and green sweater and chestnut hair came skidding into the room.

He grinned.

_Darcy_.

But that grin quickly slipped into a frown when he got a better look at her. There were twin grey smudges under her eyes and her lips were red like she had bitten at it.

“Bucky!” She slid to a halt a foot away from his bed. “Oh my god, Bucky, I came as soon I heard, I’m so sorry, I was out of town with Jane at this conference and then Steve told me you were hurt, and – ” The words tumbled out of her in a rush and her eyes roved over his form as she took in what must have made for a pathetic scene. He was thankful that Steve had the foresight to drop off a small bag of a change of clothes and some toiletries but he couldn’t imagine that he made for an appealing sight in his white hospital smock and unshaven state.

“Oh, god,” she said, softer now. Darcy swallowed audibly and he thought he saw her lip tremble.

“Aw, darlin’.” The words fell out of him unbidden but if they offended her she didn’t show it. “I’m fine, honest.”

“You’re not _fine_ ,” she bit out. She rubbed the hem of her sweater between her fingers. “You were – you were _shot.”_

“C’mere,” he said, and held out his hand towards her. At the last moment, he realized with a small jolt of panic that it was his cybernetic hand but before he could pull back, she took it. His lips curled into a small smile when she gave it a little squeeze as if to reassure herself. “I’m alright. Promise. The serum started repairing everything almost as soon as I was shot. You can ask Dr. Cho if you want.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Darcy said with a stubborn set of her chin. She started biting at her lip again as Bucky ran his thumb over the delicate bones of her knuckles.

He didn’t know what made him do it. Maybe it was the way she was shifting awkwardly on her feet. Or the way concern and worry still flitted across her face despite his reassurances. In any case, he shuffled over a bit and patted the space next to him.

Darcy made a show of narrowing her eyes at him, then at the thin hospital blanket he had pulled back for her.

“I hope you’re wearing pants under there, dude.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m decent,” he answered and pulled the blanket back further to reveal his flannel pajama pants. In return, Darcy gave him a mischievous little grin that made him wish he was out of bedrest. She toed off her flats and carefully got on the bed with him, making it dip a little with the added weight.

He raised his arm so she could tuck herself underneath, and when she did, curling into him and resting her head on his shoulder, he felt better than he had in days.

When he looked down at her, she’d tucked her hands under her chin. It had been a long time since he could remember someone close to him like this and he’d almost forgot the nearness of it. The heat and comfort of another person beside him. Darcy had immediately nestled her head under his chin as if they’d been doing this for years.

He nodded towards the small table, and she followed his gaze. On it was a small glass of water, the now-crumpled dahlia was in it looking a little wilted and but still somehow, intact.

“Thanks for that,” Bucky said.

“The charm? I don’t think it worked,” Darcy murmured sadly against his starched hospital gown.

“Sure it did, sweetheart.” Bucky ran his fingers through her soft, tangled hair, catching the faint scent of her shampoo. “Bullet went straight through, didn’t it?”

She huffed a little laugh, her hand tightening momentarily on his sleeve.

In more serious tone Bucky added, “Meant it. The charm, I mean. It worked. Overheard some agents talkin’ to Steve in the hall. They said the bullets that were used, they were special. S’posed to break apart once in a person’s body, to do the most damage that way. But this one didn’t. Like I said, it just went straight through and that was it.”

“Really?” She pulled back to look into his eyes, searching.

“Really.”

“Huh,” she said simply and smiled to herself. There was surprise in her tone but also pride.

“So you can put that on your demon resume or whatever,” he said to her and she rolled her eyes.

_Ah there she is,_ he thought and fondness for her settled over him.

“You think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”

He nodded happily, jostling her slightly.

“Well be nice to me or you won’t get the surprise I bought you.”

“Oh, I can be real nice,” he purred and waggled his eyebrows at her exaggeratedly.

She burst into a cackle, even as the tops of her cheeks pinked. “Stop, stop! Oh my god, here, just take it.” There was a papery, crumpling sound when she reached into her pocket and then she was handing him something.

A candy bar.

“Oh hell yeah,” he said as he unwrapped it and began devouring it.

“Thought you might like something that wasn’t served on a hospital tray,” Darcy said.

“Mggghph. Thanksh, Darsh,” he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate and nougat.

On the television, the cartoon that was airing had transitioned to a commercial for candy corn.

“FUCK!” Darcy exclaimed. She sat up, eyes wide as she regarded him with panic. “It’s Halloween!”

“…Happy Halloween?” He balled up the empty candy wrapper and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket.

“No, I’m supposed make sure you had the Best Halloween Ever! But you’re - !” She groaned and sank her face into her hands. “I had a _plan_ , dammit. I was gonna make Mexican hot chocolate and we were gonna watch _Beetlejuice_ and…well. Crap,” she ended morosely.

“Darcy, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not."

He thought for a moment, while his eyes lingered on the girl next to him. “This is my best Halloween.”

Darcy grimaced. “You can’t possibly mean that.” Her brows furrowed as she considered. “Wait a minute. _You meant that!_ I don’t – I don’t feel the…” She trailed off. Then incredulously, “ _This_ was your Best Halloween Ever??!”

“Sure it is. Got a gorgeous gal in bed with me – “

“It’s a _hospital bed,_ you goof.”

“We get to watch these cartoon kids with the weirdly giant-heads.”

Darcy just barely suppressed a smile. “That’s Charlie Brown. He’s waiting for the Great Pumpkin.”

“See? I’m havin’ a ball.”

Darcy turned to him with a soft gleam in those beautiful eyes and a frisson of something glowed between them. Unable to help himself, Bucky reached up and placed his hand on her cheek, and a flare of electricity jerked through him when she nuzzled against his palm with a little sigh. The sensors on his hand were telling him that her skin was soft, smooth, like a peach.

Bucky wanted so badly to close the distance, to see if her lips felt as velvety and plush as they looked and when he licked his bottom lip she blinked dazedly at him.

With a clench in his stomach he realized with wonderment that she wanted him too, and with that thought he urged her towards him. His hand was still along her neck and her pulse was beating under his fingers, thrumming hard and fast.

When her lips were finally on his, they were careful and yes, soft. There was her breath fanning across his cheeks, her body shifting closer to his. And she sighed so prettily when he laved his tongue over her bottom lip. Bucky savored the taste of her, sweet and _good,_ and his heart - the thing he’d long thought had been yanked out of him and frozen - swelled with the revelation of it. The damned blanket was tangled between them and the low hum of the hospital lights reminded him that the setting wasn’t ideal, but to him it was perfect.

Darcy’s hands now cupped his jaw and she murmured his name into his mouth. He pulled back only to pepper more kisses over her flushed cheeks, over her fluttering lashes, at each corner of her smiling lips. This is what he should have done the night she gave him the dahlia, what he wanted to do when she wrapped her arms around him after the Festival. Then he was delving into her mouth, her soft groan travelling all the way down to his toes and wondering if it would be okay if he rolled them over so he could feel her beneath him -

“Hey! No hanky-panky on my floor!” Dr. Cho called out from where she leaned against the doorway.

“Hey, Helen,” Darcy sighed, without taking her eyes off of his face. She clambered away from him and he barely held back an irritable grumble at losing her heat.

Dr. Cho snickered. “Hey, Darcy. Sergeant.”

Despite himself Bucky felt himself redden and he pulled the blanket over to cover his lap in what he hoped was an inconspicuous movement. Judging by how Dr. Cho was politely and studiously avoiding looking at him, it wasn’t.

“You checking in on my patients now?” Dr. Cho asked Darcy, her casual tone laced through with humor.

“I am,” Darcy said, imperious and biting back laughter.

“And?”

“Healthy!” Darcy declared in a slightly too-high voice and squeezed his bicep. “Making a speedy and steady recovery as we speak.”

“Good. Take it easy on him, though.”

“I will.”

Once Helen left, Darcy shot him an apologetic look.

He returned it, painfully aware that he was minutes from mauling the poor girl in front of him on a goddamn hospital bed. She deserved better.

He cleared his throat and tore his gaze back to the television. “So, what’s the Great Pumpkin?”

 

\------

 

He had shaved. He was wearing a shirt with buttons, even. He held in right hand a little bouquet of orange and red flowers and had grudgingly endured the knowing looks of Steve when he asked him where the nearest florist was.

In short, Bucky Barnes, who had once said that a date was “dinner, dancing, and flowers at the very least”, was standing in front of the doors to Darcy’s quarters about to – to court her.

She looked surprised to see him but greeted him happily enough. Although when he followed her into her apartment she seemed more nervous than he saw her last.

Her hands couldn’t stay still – they were straightening the stack of magazines and science journals on the side table, or running through her hair, or adjusting a throw pillow.

His stomach sank. Sure, they’d kissed a little but had he misread things? Was she having second thoughts?

He watched as her hands fluttered again, fluffing the flowers in the vase.

“Oh! It’s a good thing you’re here!” Darcy exclaimed. “I still have your leather jacket. It’s in the closet, gimme a sec.”

She turned to go to her closet when something glimmering in the light caught his eyes. The shoulder of her loose t-shirt had fallen down slightly. He stopped her with a gentle hand at her arm.

“I – I like your tattoo,” he told her and with his index finger traced the intricate lines of what looked like gold feathers along the back of her shoulder. Goosebumps spread across her skin.

“It’s not a tattoo,” Darcy answered, in a near whisper. “They’re my wings. Kinda. All my relatives have them but I can’t fly or anythi – _oh_!” and she broke off into a gasp because he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t help but lean down to carefully sweep his lips across the lines of her wings, and nudge his nose into her hair until the wonderful orange and cinnamon scent of her filled his senses.

“ _Bucky_ ,” she breathed, and turned in his arms. Immediately, she took two handfuls of his shirt and drew him down to her and opened her mouth under his. He kissed her hard, desperately, and she gave back as good as she got, sliding her tongue along his and pressing her body against him.

“I didn’t think you wanted – ” he began, when they finally came up for air.

“Yes! Yes, of course I want to! I just hadn’t seen you around for awhile, you know? I thought maybe…”

“No,” he said firmly, aghast at the thought.

“No?”

“I mean, I had training, the debrief after the mission, then I was trying to find a place I could take ya out…”

“Oh,” she said around a smile that was giddy and brilliant.

The sunlight was streaming in from behind her and he took a strand of her hair between two fingers, sweeping it behind her ear.

“Yeah. Oh,” he answered, then sank his hand further into her hair and pulled her to him once more.

Their clothes didn’t make it on their journey to the bedroom. Darcy unbuttoned then tugged off his shirt in the kitchen, and hers joined it soon enough. When he shoved her up against the countertop the skin to skin contact made his head spin. He nearly tripped over the legs of his own pants in the living room and Darcy laughed at him until he hauled her to him by the belt loops of her jeans and began claiming her mouth with his.

She led the way to her bedroom, her skin pale and gorgeous against the magenta of her bra.

He followed her lead - would’ve followed her anywhere at that point, really - and ended up on the bed with her, watching with amusement as she plucked off pillows of various sizes and colors and threw them over her shoulder.

She was soft, warm skin and breathy sounds when he pressed open-mouthed kisses at her jaw and under her ear. There was a brief fumbling with the rest of their undergarments but he momentarily stopped caring about finesse when she wrapped her small hand around the length of him, pumping him and making him see stars.

With the first slow push into her heat he was lost. He hadn’t even realized that his eyes had fluttered shut until he felt her kiss his lids. When they moved together, Darcy’s fingernails indented little crescent moons into his shoulder blades and she curved under him when he snapped his hips against hers.

His gut clenched at the way she said his name, gasped it, like he was the only person she ever wanted and it made him want to give her everything, every part of himself.

Bucky tried to memorize every moment, how she moved under his hands, his lips. The sensation of her thigh tightening under his grip when he pushed it towards her shoulder, her pupils blown wide when she looked at him.

There were low, hungry sounds that he realized were coming from him as they both chased their climaxes.

When she came, muffling her whimper against his shoulder and clenching deliciously around him, he followed right after, his own orgasm sharp and bright.

Afterwards, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and when both of their racing hearts had finally slowed to normal, he found himself staring up at her ceiling. She had placed stickers up there, and whereas his own ceiling was the plain white it was when he moved in, hers was indigo blue and dotted with little cartoon animals and flowers and UFOs.

A sliver of uncertainty shot through him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t even taken her on a proper date. He didn’t want her to think that he’d just leave after this and he felt ill at the thought that _she_ might want _him_ to leave.

“You’re uh, stickin’ around, aintcha?” he asked her, and avoided her curious look by kissing at her shoulder and allowing his hair to fall over his face.

When he pushed down his hesitance and brought his gaze to Darcy, the soft look on her face told him that she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Sure I am.” She bumped her nose along his and ran her toe over his calf. “Halloween’s over but there’s still Thanksgiving, y’know,” Darcy quipped.

He smiled. Her underlying message was loud and clear, so he merrily began dotting his lips over the little marks he had made on her neck and the tops of her breasts. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” his girl gasped, when he started sucking on that soft, lovely curve between her shoulder and neck.

“And after that?” He took her pretty pink nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, sucked hard while rolling its twin under his thumb. She clenched her fingers into the long strands of his hair, pulling just a little, and he groaned around her.

“Um…and then, and then – oh! And then Christmas,” she answered breathlessly. “Then, then New Year’s.” She was trembling now, and he loved it.

“Uh-huh. You gotta fella you wanna kiss at New Year’s, doll?” He pulled back and began kissing his way down her stomach, giving a little kitten lick to the birthmark next her belly button.

“Mmm,” she said, wriggling into the sheets.

“Is that a yes?” He nipped at the soft flesh of her hip, and shimmied down further.

“Yes!”

“And after that is Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” And he slid two fingers inside of her where she was still warm and slick from the both them, crooked them upwards towards her front walls and started a slow glide in and out.

“Oh, yesss,” Darcy said, her voice high and breathy. She arched further into his touch when he put his mouth on her, made a tiny choked sound when he sucked a rhythm on her clit. “And St. Patrick’s Day, and…and oh my god, Bucky, there, right there…”

“And what?”

“And Earth Day…ah fuck, oh _god._ ”

He stopped his ministrations and lifted his head. “Earth Day? Huh. That one’s new, isn’t it?”

Darcy, suddenly aware that there had been a pause in the festivities, pushed herself up on her elbows, glared playfully down at him and said, “Yes, I guess it sort of is. We are doing all of the holidays together, okay? Now keep doing that – that thing with your tongue!”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- IDK who would be taking sex-ed advice from a fic about a demon science intern and her super soldier boyfriend, but just in case – they’re both clean and Darcy has an IUD. *nods*
> 
> \- Cheesecake (or any) syrup in your coffee, yay or nay? You can confess to me, I won't tell ;)
> 
> \- Thanks for reading, everyone! Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/) <3

**Author's Note:**

> \- Yes, I realize that it’s not even September yet. But, as Ministry says, “Everyday is Halloween” ;)
> 
> \- Darcy and her powers are loosely based on the demon Crocell, who is a Duke of Hell and whose powers include geometry and warming bodies of water.
> 
> \- The “Sammie” that Darcy mentions is Sam from the anthology horror movie, _Trick 'r Treat_. I highly recommend if you want a spooky dark comedy!
> 
> \- I’m on tumblr [here](https://sachertortes.tumblr.com/)! :)


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